


Everyone Has a Past

by whatintheworld



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders Has Terrible Parents, Past Child Abuse, Stress Baking, Virgil Is a Good Bro, no relationships - Freeform, roman is a jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatintheworld/pseuds/whatintheworld
Summary: When Roman slaps Logan, uncomfortable memories rise, and Virgil tries to help Logan through the aftermath.





	Everyone Has a Past

**Author's Note:**

> Um, child abuse trigger? If I missed anything, please let me know. All the mistakes made are my own. Comments are greatly appreciated!

Logan sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, disrupting his glasses. 

Roman had been standing in the living room, yelling at Logan for what seems to be forever. Apparently, Roman hadn’t done well in the audition and was in a difficult mood. When Roman had described what had happened - in the most unbiased way Roman ever could - Logan had pointed out the possible and probable flaws and set Roman’s metaphorical fuse off. 

Logan could feel his skin crawling. Yelling always got on his nerves, for reasons he really would rather not get into. It was something of the past, anyway.

“Roman, I really don’t see the point in complaining -”

“Oh my god, shut up! You’ll never understand. You know why?” Roman hissed, his face turning an ugly shade of red. “You’ve never had a heart, you robot.” Logan heard a sharp intake of breath and realized his lungs were starting to malfunction. Oh no.

“Still, Roman-” Logan started, hands shaking near his sides. 

“Shut up!” Roman screamed. Logan saw his face contort in rage and his body move forward. Then, there was a searing pain across his face and a loud clapping noise. His cheek felt like it was on fire, and his neck twisted in the wrong way.

Logan’s chest tightened and bars wrapped themselves on his lungs. His breath stuttered and he felt his cheek begin to throb. Oh, hell, his throat was raw and he could feel his form begin to shake. You’re useless, said voices in his head. You will never amount to anything. Roman’s voice deepened into something worn with whiskey; something terribly familiar. Logan’s father’s voice. Everything was blurry, and Logan realized he had lost his glasses downstairs. Water kept dripping down his neck and made it itchy.

The stairs slipped by his feet and he slammed into the door at the top. It opened and he stumbled, falling to his knees on the floor. There was pain everywhere, then it stopped. Darkness surrounded him until the dim light of memories lit his brain.

His father stood before him, hands on his hips. Logan’s shaky hands held his report card, cast in shadow. His mother stood on the side, her face unreadable. The letter B stood out amongst the numerous A’s, surrounded by a red circle. 

“You useless piece of shit,” he growled, the belt slithering out of his pants. Logan shivered and then felt tears drip onto his glasses. He was shoved to the ground, and he stayed there. Logan knew the repercussions if he fought back. His father stepped behind him. A whistling, and then a heavy thud. Logan screamed as his back was ripped into with the buckle of a belt. 

Time passed in a blur, and soon Logan saw spots in front of his head. Breathing seemed to be the only thing that he could do until he could not feel anything anymore. He had the sudden realization that he could hear music in the distance.

*

Virgil knew something was wrong even before Logan had slammed into his door. Roman had been spit-fire mad earlier, fresh from a ‘failed audition.’ Logan, the stupid idiot, started to do the one thing Roman hated with all his heart; told the inflated ego what it did wrong. And then, it seemed, things started to get worse. A harsh yelp, and then there was a thump on Virgil’s door. 

Logan tumbled in, and Virgil felt his body tense. He was absolutely not prepared to take care of another human being, let alone one in the midst of a panic attack. Virgil shut his door and turned to see Logan curled in a ball. His hands were shaking and clenched.

Virgil crept nearer and settled on his knees near the other person’s shaking frame. What in the world should he do? What in the world had even triggered Logan? How did he even end up in Virgil’s room? 

More questions poured themselves into Virgil’s brain and he pulled at the dark carpet. Oh, fuck it, here goes nothing. “Logan?” he said and frowned when Logan flinched. “I’m going to put a hand on your knee, okay?” No response. Virgil did so and jumped back when Logan kicked a foot out and gave a loud shout.

“Don’t!” he screamed and Virgil felt his eyes snap open. Logan curled back into a ball. Virgil racked his brain for something to do and remembered that listening to music often helped him through his own attacks. He grabbed his headphones, played the quietest music he had, and slipped them over Logan’s ears. He fought for a moment, shaking, and then stilled.

Virgil soon found himself with a sleeping nerd. He lifted him off the ground and froze when Logan shifted. “Shh, sh, back to sleep,” he growled and Logan drifted off again. His face was worryingly puffed up, Virgil noted. Virgil plopped Logan onto the bed and seemingly forget how blankets worked. After some moments, he gave up and threw his Tim Burton blanket over him.

Roman was sitting at the table when Virgil slipped down the stairs. His fingers were idly tapping on the surface, and he leaped up as if burned when he realized Virgil was downstairs. “Is Logan okay?” Roman breathed.

Virgil glanced down at the floor through his bangs. “He’ll be fine,” he muttered, shoving his clenched fists into his hoodie pocket. He was furious. No, beyond that, he was pissed. Honestly, he had no clue what Roman had done.

“Are you sure?” 

Virgil felt anxious thoughts flood his head and growled. “No, I’m not fucking sure, because you triggered some sort of panic attack, and then he cried on my floor. Does that sound okay to you?” Virgil shouted at the table legs. Roman took a step back and then slammed his hand on the table.

“Maybe it’s not my fault, okay? Not everything is always my fault!” Roman screamed. Virgil glared up at him and felt anger roil through his stomach at the look of indignation on Roman’s face. They stood in the kitchen like that, for god knows how long, until the slamming of the front door startled them.

“Heya, kiddos!” Patton hollered as he entered the house. Boisterous footsteps came to the kitchen. Patton’s previous volume and apparent good mood evaporated. “What’s going on?”

Roman glanced to the door, and Virgil did too. Patton suddenly squared his shoulders and grew slightly intimidating. “Tell me,” he said, and Virgil gulped. He looked at Roman, who was paler than Virgil thought was possible for his dark skin tone. 

When nothing happened, Virgil hissed in the back of his throat. “Fess up, Roman.” Roman swallowed thickly and brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Listen, he was being a right pain in my ass, alright? He was being so annoying, whatever, and he just said something that made me furious, and I slapped him,” Roman said his face red. Through it, however, Virgil could see Roman’s sparkly brown eyes begging for forgiveness. He was not swayed. 

Patton was standing stock still, face going paler by the second. His hand was gripping the door frame with a worryingly tight grip. He suddenly ran upstairs and left Roman and Virgil alone in awkward silence. 

“You hit him?” 

“Well, yes, but it wasn’t all that hard, really. I could have hit him much harder-”

“That’s not the point, Roman. I think you triggered a panic attack from Logan, dipshit,” Virgil murmured. He felt unwanted satisfaction drip down his spine when Roman’s eyes bulged. 

“Oh,” Roman said weakly. Virgil nodded. 

Patton stomped back down the stairs and asked for Virgil to come up. Virgil nodded and saw the hard glare Patton gave Roman to keep him in the kitchen. They entered his room and Virgil felt his lungs contract at the sight before him. 

Logan was curled into a tight ball, and his black polo was pulled up. The edge of a red scar poked from the bottom of his shirt, and it glared at Virgil. Patton sat on the bed next to Logan and sighed. “I really had hoped to avoid something like this. Virgil, thanks for putting him to bed. I know how - well, bad he gets during his panic attacks.” Virgil felt his hands clench when he realized that holy fuck, Logan’s gone through that before. After, another though screeched through his mind: what the fuck happened?

He must have said that aloud since Patton glanced at him and then ran a hand into Logan’s hair. “I know what happened, Virgil, but I think it should be his story to tell.” Virgil understood, he really, really did, but it didn’t stop the burning curiosity and worry from rolling through him. 

Patton led him out of the room and slowly closed the door. Roman was sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands. Virgil felt ready to shout, to scream, or rip Roman’s head off, but Patton beat him to the mark. He stood near Roman and put a hand on his arm. There were murmurs, and Roman’s dejected shoulders before the theater ‘prince’ stood and left the kitchen. Virgil jumped when the front door shut and Patton called after Roman.

The fatherly person sighed and grabbed a bag of flour from the shelves. “Do you want to make some cookies?” Patton smiled. The way his cheeks were lacking in their cheerful flush confirmed that Patton was worried. Horribly so. With that on his mind, Virgil agreed to make the messy dough from scratch even though he knew they had ready to bake cookies in the freezer. 

A while later, after the cookies were done, footsteps stumbled down the stairs. Logan tumbled into the living room and glanced around, arms twitching at his sides. His eyes were puffy, and his hair was in such a state of disarray that Virgil was momentarily worried a family of birds migrated to it. 

An awkward silence enveloped the space, sucking all the air out of the house. Virgil began to twist the rag in his hands for lack of something better to do. “Hey, Logan,” Patton murmured, and slowly walked out of the kitchen. The plate of cookies was in his hands, and he set them on the table. 

“Salutations, Patton. May I...may I talk to Roman?” 

Patton winced and Virgil saw his shoulders tense. “I’m sorry, buddy, but Roman left a while ago.”   
Virgil saw Logan’s whole body clench before it moved forward. He plopped into a chair and grasped a cookie. 

Virgil began to edge out of the scene, slowly creeping his way to the stairs. He really wasn’t needed here, right? Patton had it covered, and Logan would be fine unless something else set him off. That wouldn’t be good at all. “Virgil, stay with us. I think that Logan would like to talk to you,” Patton said, and Virgil froze in his retreat.

“Are you sure, Patton? I know that I don’t, uh, like to talk about stuff after, you know, an attack,” Virgil replied. He winced at his rough voice and rubbed a hand at his throat. Patton nodded and Virgil slid into his customary chair, opposite of Logan’s, and watched him struggle with words. It was a sight that Virgil though he would never see. Logan was eloquent in some of the most stressful situations; the time Roman broke his arm Logan had remembered exactly how to bind it, according to something he had read, and had recited all the moves while he completed them. 

“Virgil, I...I thank you for taking care of me during my - ah - attack,” Logan stuttered. His hands fluttered all about, twisting together or tapping on the table. Just seeing them move made Virgil nervous. “My childhood was...less than ideal. I had many incidents with a belt, often after disappointing my parents, or my father drinking too much whiskey. I do slightly understand their motives, so I have made peace with my past.” Virgil must have been making a face, for Logan hastened to add, “There are just remnants of it that stay with me. I apologize for being a burden.”

Virgil felt a hot blade of hate, hurt, and whoever touched Logan would fucking die. Instead of acting those out, he rapidly shook his head. “Logan, you were never a burden. I’m - I’m just glad I could help you.” Logan didn’t look convinced, but Virgil took satisfaction in the small look of thanks Patton shot his way. 

They sat like that, eating cookies, and murmuring small bits of conversation until the front door creaked open. Logan tensed and Virgil stood from his seat. The anger surged into his front and he found himself snarling at the door. Patton must have stood because his hand slid onto Virgil’s shoulder. 

Roman stood in the door, a bag of chocolates resting in one arm and the faint wisp of whiskey rolling off him. “Hey, Patton! Long time no see, huh buddy?” he called, giggling to himself. Patton sighed and stepped forward. 

“How much have you had to drink, Roman?” 

“Oh, not much. Logan! Hey, I got you chocolates. Sorry that I slapped you,” Roman said. It would have been properly nice if it wasn’t shouted in between giggles and burps. Logan’s shoulders started to quake and he let out a shaky breath. When Roman slung a hand over his shoulder, he jumped to the ceiling and shoved the drunk man away.

“Don’t - just - d-don’t touch me,” Logan gasped, hand clenched on his shirt. Roman looked terribly confused before tears started to leak out of his eyes. It immediately caused guilt to drip inside Virgil’s head for the want to sock him. Patton neared him and wrapped an arm around Roman’s middle.

“Roman, buddy, we’re gonna go to bed,” he murmured. Roman babbled at him all the way up the stairs and Virgil would distantly hear it until the clack of a door. 

Nervousness crept under his skin, but Virgil knew he needed to do something. So he asked, “Wanna sit near me on the couch? I - uh - get it if you don’t want to...touch or anything, but the company might help.” Logan looked at him for a long moment before nodding, and they sat. 

Minutes went by before anything happened. Then, almost tentatively, Logan’s hand appeared on Virgil’s thigh. He tried not to jump, but Logan noticed his startle. “Sorry,” he whispered and pulled his hand back. 

“No, no, it’s okay. You can put it back.”

And Logan did. After about half an hour, Virgil was left with a lapful of a sleeping Logan and the warmest feeling seeping into his chest. He knew, god he knew what it felt like to go through an attack, and he felt proud of Logan for keeping it together. For now, things weren’t perfect, but they were okay. 

Virgil smiled and drifted off into sleep.


End file.
